


Its 9 o'clock on a Saturday.

by theprettymozart



Category: Classicaloid (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, george sand once had badly cut bangs, reincarnation in a roundabout way, shes drunk and trying i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 22:37:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20033485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprettymozart/pseuds/theprettymozart
Summary: “I just want to rest again.”





	Its 9 o'clock on a Saturday.

Aurore inspected the stem of the wine glass she seemed to be gripping for dear life. Two glasses were gone, and she had never experienced being a lightweight when it came to her alcohol or her emotions before. 

“The first thing I can recall is that my hair was in my face. Swirling around in that god forsaken tube before they threw me out of it. Bastards, all of them.

Trying to formulate their useless scientifically perfect being, worthy of the competition abroad, and to assert market dominance at home. I was a human error that was, to put it lightly, preventable. The simple accidental switch of a CD made me a completely different person. They clearly had no place for a mistake in that laboratory.

Which means I was told off for something I had no control over whatsoever. No person, artificial or otherwise, deserves what I went through that first month.

I wasn’t given a name, I had no memories, and I was alone in a city I had no recollection of, but on a lighter note I was given a rather handsome sum of money to keep my mouth shut. And I did! For a long damn time. I got an apartment it was a dusty, and cramped little place. That's where the nightmares started.”

“They weren’t nightmares per se.” she waved her free arm, “Just dreams of such excruciating detail each that each action within them seemed to be predetermined.

So, I wrote it down, all of it. Then I had the bright idea to bring it to a publisher. The agent laughed at me when he called me back after looking at the manuscript. He said I had stolen a novel word for word.

The man slapped a copy of what I had ‘stolen’ from on his office desk.

Before my eyes was the wretched book itself, Lucrezia Floriani.

I passed out.

Information processing overload I guess. But I had a name.”

“I did some poking around about my name.

I read my autobiography, that’s when the hair came off.

My landlady lent me a dull pair of scissors and I just hacked away at it for a night. I’m pleased the bangs grew out, they were a bad choice.

I visited Nohant for the first time and bribed the government to sell it back to me.

Hired an assistant too, Victore, the poor girl, dealing with me all day. The publishing house was first established around then.

I f I had been branded a cheat by the rest of the publishing industry, might as well rub it back in their faces by taking their business. NV Publishing is my whole life now. I invested all that money the scientists gave me into it and the gamble paid off,” she took a long sip, “So far at least”

“I’m a respected CEO” she made air quotes with her free hand, “I’m an influencer.”

“And I have been more lonely doing that, than doing anything else in all my life.”

“Of course I saw the former love of my life again, but pining for someone you know you don’t want to reconcile with is just not constructive. So he just visits my house occasionally and sometimes plays the piano.”

“So I’m here. Tired of the 9-5. Tired of authors bickering for the house’s attention. Tired of my board of directors breathing down my neck.”

“I just want to rest again.”  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I have no explanation for this honestly.


End file.
